Page 1 of The Rules
Chapter 1
Katherine
The courtroom pressed down on Katherine Winters, thick and choking, a vise she couldn’t wriggle out of. She sat rigid between her mother and Lisa, every muscle locked, nails biting through the thin fabric of her skirt where her fists knotted tight against her knees. The judge’s voice blurred, swallowed by the brutal pounding in her ears, each heartbeat a savage drumbeat battering against her ribs, daring her to stay still, daring her not to break.
"The court finds Neil Winters guilty of embezzlement."
The words ripped through Katherine’s defenses like a bullet through brittle bone. Lisa’s sharp gasp cracked the silence; their mother’s strangled sob splintered against the courtroom walls—but Katherine didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her spine welded itself into an iron, her fingers gouging crescents into her skirt as every muscle beneath her skin twisted tight.
The world tilted, smeared, the polished wood, the black robes, the gawking faces all bleeding together into a sickening blur. Her lungs seized against the stale, heavy air; each shallow breath scraped her throat raw. She had known. God, she had known this was coming—had tasted it in the way the lawyers wouldn't meet her eyes, had heard it in the brittle cracks of her father's voice the night before. And still, somewhere deep in the soft, stupid part of her, she had prayed for a miracle. Had clung to hope with whole heart, foolish and stubborn.
Now, the weight of it—of reality—crushed down, merciless and absolute.
The pressure built, unbearable, the courtroom walls pressing inward, her body locking down harder and harder, until somewhere in the suffocating haze—a memory rose, unbiddenand unwelcome, slipping through the cracks in her mind like smoke through a broken window.
The kitchen is bathed in a muted glow, the stillness so fragile it seems a breath could shatter it. Niel's tranquility is disquieting—it's the resignation of a man who has already accepted his fate.
He speaks the words that have been haunting the edges of her mind: Your mother won’t handle this and Lisa won’t understand. Each syllable is a heavy stone dropping into the silence. Then, he utters the sentence she's been dreading: "You’re the strongest. And I need you to prove it." His fingers clamp around her wrist—not just seeking reassurance, but binding her to duty. His gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t soften. It’s not just a plea; it’s a chain locking into place.
“Take care of them.” Three simple words, yet they bear down on her shoulders with more weight than any judge’s gavel ever could. Each letter etches itself into her skin, a promise demanded, not offered. The air in the room grows denser, the quietude pressing in on her, sealing her within this new reality. Her breath catches, held hostage by the gravity of his request.
In the present moment—the gavel falls. The guards move. Kath jolts forward. “Dad!” For the first time since the trial began, Niel looks at her. And he nods. Not in apology. Not in defeat. But in recognition. A silent agreement. A confirmation of the promise she already made.
The verdict crashes against her with seismic force, yet Katherine Winters doesn’t buckle. Her face set like stone, her heels dig in. She doesn’t chase after him. Doesn’t scream.
She just watches as the doors devour him whole.
And in that moment, something inside her goes cold.
Not heroic. Not brave. Just... necessary.
She doesn't rise to the occasion—she calcifies into it. Because someone has to. Because no one else will. Lisa will fall apart. Their mother already has.
So Katherine becomes the wall. The weight-bearer. The one who doesn't get to break.
The mantle doesn’t settle on her shoulders—it clamps down like a shackle. Heavy. Final.
???
The courtroom doors have barely swung shut behind Kath, but the weight in her chest hasn’t lessened. Around her, lawyers move with easy efficiency—buttoning their coats, checking their phones, already shifting their focus to their next cases.
For them, this is just another verdict. Another trial.
Another win.
For her, it’s the end of everything.
She’s about to turn away when a voice cuts through the hum of polite conversation—sharper, angrier than the rest.
A young man. His tone hushed yet ardent with rage, asserted, "How can this be justice? We all witnessed the evidence.
We all know—this wasn’t right."
Kath’s breath catches. Just a few feet away, a group of attorneys stands in a tight circle. Among them, a younger man—a legal intern, maybe—looks visibly agitated, his posture rigid, expression barely restrained frustration. His fists curl at his sides, fury brimming beneath his words as he glares at the older lawyers—sharp, precise, and one breath from losing control.
The young man questions, "If this is the norm, what's the purpose? How can any of you consider what happened in there justice?"
A seasoned attorney sighs, adjusting his cufflinks with a practiced air of detachment. The veteran lawyer replies,
